


The King is Alive

by da_renan



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: AU-- Save the king, Demons, F/M, Sesskag - Freeform, Sibling Betrayal, fae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27998316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_renan/pseuds/da_renan
Summary: Kagome always believed her grandfather was insane but when her nightmares won't go away she learns a deadly secret.AU: Kagome has to save the cursed demon King Sesshomaru
Relationships: SessKag InuKag
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Family Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I am a writing major t r y i n g to write two books simultaneously but I cannot rest with these SessKag fanfic ideas in my head. Please enjoy and let me know what you think, feedback is always appreciated. 
> 
> *Should only be about seven parts max*

Kagome was having haunting dreams that made her blood rush in fear, her blankets devious twists around her, yet when she woke all she could remember was silver hair tinged red. This was one of those times, sweat making her clothes cling to her as the image of a dogged ear demon sinking a blade through the other. 

In her mulled haze she crept through her still asleep house, the moon heavy in its fullness and lighting through the parted curtains. The fluorescent lights were too harsh on her eyes so she used the moon light to navigate through her cupboard. A single twisted expression stayed in her mind's eye, how the silver haired demon’s mouth was wide in sharp fangs and gurgled with blood, her mind breaking away when water overfilled her cup and down her wrist. 

“Kagome?” Her grandfather’s voice was hesitant, his stout and short figure cutting a darker figure against the kitchen’s pane. 

“Ah, yes?” With a shift she shut off the faucet and held the wet cup to her chest with shifty eyes. 

“Another night terror?” His disembodied voice was probing, a half hint of something in his old voice. 

“Yeah--”

“Was it of a slain demon?” A moonbeam shifted through the kitchen curtains, a sliver of light against her grandfather’s wrinkled cheekbones. She gripped her cup closer, the water seeping into her night shirt. 

“How did you know. . . ?” Kagome whispered, as if speaking any louder it would bring back logic and hard facts instead of the thrumming mystery. Her grandfather shifted, the small light falling to his shoulders instead, beaconing her away from the kitchen. 

Her family believed her grandfather partial to insanity with his devout belief in demons and spirits, only having the shrine because it was in her father’s legacy. Yet those logical assumptions hushed with weeks of various night terrors repeating the same scenes over and over again, faces she’d never seen before. Together they crept into the chilly night to an offset shrine where her grandfather kept a ludicrous amount of texts and objects of the past and mythology, the cup still held in her hand. 

Her grandfather stayed silent as he lit small lanterns, the usually cozy glow a little too ominous in the night as it highlighted a saber on the wall. She sunk into the pillow by the low table, her mind once again trying to bring logic into the equation; she must have talked to him about it, there’s no way he’d know anything. His knobbed fingers roamed the shelves with confidence and pulled a tattered and yellow scroll, his eyes slowly meeting hers before opening it on the table. 

A gruesome scene unfurled on the wizened scroll, the inks faded with time but not any less capturing. The demon she saw in her dreams was there donned in armor, spiked through with thousands of swords, golden eyes angry and splayed hair longer than her own, pinned into an array of thorns. 

“He was the King beyond the veil where demons and fae roamed,” Her grandfather’s voice was hushed but still made her spine shiver. “His legacy was bright and had brought many victories to the demons that lived there. Until his half brother, part fae and part demon, grew a seed of jealousy that became bigger every time his brother the King gained more loyalty and prosperity. The brother believed that he should have been the heir to the demon throne, that the victories were supposed to be his.” 

“So he killed his brother the King?” Kagome whispered, the flame flickering and casting the demon’s face in shadows. 

“With the help of his lover, a powerful fae being that could control nature, together they casted a spell and bound him to the land to sleep forever.”

“But why would I have such vivid nightmares about it? They aren’t real.” 

“The fae priestess grew fearful as she watched her lover betray his own flesh and blood,” her grandfather carried on. “And in one last act of vengeance the King cursed her to remember the betrayal even after she was dead, warning her that she too would be like him. The fae priestess dreamed of it every night and watched her lover with terror, watching for any signs that he’d turn on her as well. Less than a year after the coup she fled past the veil into the human lands, hiding among them and carried out her bloodline.”

Her grandfather looked Kagome in the eye, the light making his older form haunting. “That is how her children and children’s children were cursed to live through the demon King’s death and her betrayal.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.” Kagome sternly told him even as her eyes flickered to the demon. “None of this is real-- you must have told me this story too many times as a child that I’ve dreamed it.” 

Her grandfather didn’t say anything with his lips pursed, staring at her with a clear gaze. Her mother was right, he was crazy! Believing so deeply in the mystics that he couldn’t tell the difference between reality and his imagination, why did she even follow him out here? She grabbed her cup and left him in his study without another word, swiftly making the way between the buildings through the chilly night air. 

The moon gleamed down at her as her slippers pattered against the brick way, it should have strengthened her logic but all it did was cause her to shiver and her hair rose up. 

* * *

The next morning she talked to her brother at breakfast before she’d had to drive him to high school on her way to her college class. 

“Has grandfather talked to you about dead demon Kings by chance?” She asked it lightly, watching her brother closely as he ate his cereal with his eyes glued to his phone screen. 

“And fairies, leprechauns and even that Egyptian god with the head of a crocodile.” Souta laughed with his spoon against his lips. “Do you think we can finally convince mom to put in the ‘ward yet?”

“Don’t joke about that.” Kagome quietly chastised him and earned an eye roll. 

“Why? Are you starting to believe him now?” Souta waggled his eyebrows with another laugh before clinking his bowl in the sink. “By the way, can you pick me up later today? Soccer practice starts today.” 

“Yeah.” Kagome murmured, it seemed Souta didn’t have any of those dreams either. It must be because she heard that story too many times as a child, she reassured herself. Yet a small voice in the back of her mind told her that she’d never heard that story before. . . 

She arrived at her first course twenty minutes too early, a downside to commuting to campus, and she watched those milling around her with jealous eyes. What was it like living in a dorm? Living with people her own age? Would she have had more friends if she did? She pushed those thoughts out of her head and opened her sketchbook with the jellyfish on them. In high school she was always surrounded by friends, the centerpiece of many groups that all wanted her input on school planning or even to hang out, here she was too alone. 

She doodled those golden eyes thoughtlessly, capturing the pained curve and bold magenta stripe above it. When she realized it she scribbled over it with frustration-- it was always there in her mind like a sickness now. After every nightmare the images became more solidified, the memory manifesting in her conscious mind, a sickening replay of nonsense. But. . . her pencil paused in her scribble, if these nightmares happened in every generation then didn’t grandpa have them? Did her father? Her brother didn’t, did that mean only one did? 

Her mind betrayed her during her courses, the professor’s voice a buzz that she couldn’t concentrate on. One after another from biology to her art history class her mind turned over and over, she felt like she was going crazy with them-- how did the predecessor deal with it? With a small ah-ha moment in her head she determined that she had to look. 

Without having to pick up Souta she arrived home while the coming winter sun bowed closer to the mountain. A sticky note informed her that mom and grandpa were at the heart doctor and to eat without them, rice still in the cooker. With the house completely to herself she crept back into that small study of her grandfather’s-- he’d have to have the ancestral records. 

With careful maneuvering she sorted through old scrolls and journals bound that threatened to become dust, the method of organization unknown to her. After the seemingly hundredth document she slid to the floor with a huff, where could he even keep them? She slammed her hand down in frustration and met with a sharp pain. She glared down at the hidden chest while holding her pained hand. 

“Fucking, uh, stupid thing,” She muttered unable to form a coherent insult to the old thing, but then curiosity got the better of her. It was a deep mahogany chest without any embellishments and creaked while she pulled it out from under the low table. It popped open without a lock, it’s hinges old and rusty but oiled from constant use. 

A bound book laid atop documents and with a tingling stomach she placed it on the table, running her fingers down the leathered binding. There was no embossed title to give away what was in it and she had to be gentle when opening it, a careful mass of handwriting she couldn’t comprehend meeting her gaze. With a frown she flipped through the book and noted how the handwriting changed and then slowly became characters she understood, all were names and annotations under it. With a grin she flipped to the back of the book and found her grandfather’s name:  **Daizen Higurashi.**

Beside her grandfather’s name was another name,  **Yua Higurashi** . Underneath it was the symbol of deceased and Kagome’s brows creased-- she didn’t know a grandaunt. Her fingers slipped over the words of her death but it didn’t make sense and she had to reread it:

[passage]: 

_ She had the dreams earlier than those cursed and would often wake screaming. Her young mind couldn’t handle it even with the help of the priests, they tried their all to suppress them, but she gave way to them. We found her this morning, _ the ink splotched at this point,  _ on the bank of the river with a broken neck. She died before she hit the water. _

Kagome shivered and then went to the next entry. Again there were two names, her father and another woman. This entry depicted that the young Sara killed herself before the age of ten, her actions those of a horror victim repeating the same phrase over and over again-- “The King still lives.” 

Kagome’s hands shook against the parchment and then went up the line where her and Souta’s names were printed. Underneath her own name had a few sentences:

_ No signs at ten. No signs at seventeen like imouto, _ her grandfather’s writing was crisp.  _ She’s twenty-two and the curse has taken hold, it’s not as strong as Sara’s and Yua’s, there could still be some hope. _

Her stomach heaved at reading her own entry and then she went back while her spine shivered, each entry there were two children. One male and the other female, and again the girl-child died before she got married or had her own child. Only the Higurashi males survived through wives, all the way from the foreign handwriting that she couldn’t read. What did this mean? It couldn’t be real, she tried to tell herself, but her eyes continued to look at the journal with horror. 

“I know what to do,” She tapped the table, trying to bring logic back into her life, and began searching on her phone for the death records. Her vision swayed and became hazy, one after the other confirmed the death of each female in the Higurashi family all the way to the nineteen twenties where the records weren’t kept as well. 

The study’s door creaked open and grandfather’s face looked back sadly at her with the opened book. 

“You’ve found them.” 

“You- you could have told me that I’m most likely going to die.” 

Her grandfather remained silent, his hip popping when he took the seat across from her. “You believe me now?” He asked while taking the book back, his knobbed fingers gripping the pages gently. His eyes held a far away look, one that the family constantly claimed was insanity. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Kagome’s voice shook and she put her phone down, the tab still open on the family’s death records. 

“. . . The King still lives,” grandfather looked up from the pages, his mouth a tight line. “The best way to lift the curse is to free him.” 

“Why didn’t anyone else do that? Why-- why did so many have to die? Why am I the one that has to do that?” The questions tumbled out of her mouth in fast staccatos, horror laced through them all. 

“We believed the King was dead.” He said simply and closed the book, the thud loud between them and silencing any other questions she could think of. 

“You have a chance to right the wrongs of our ancestors. . . and save those that come after you.” There was pain that rested deep in his wrinkles and aged him further, his usually stout shoulders now fragile like bird bones. Was he remembering his sister? Was he alive when his aunt committed suicide? Kagome licked her dry lips. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” Her question was barely out of her mouth before her mother’s figure entered the doorway. 

“What are you doing? Don’t fill my child’s head with your insanity.” Mother’s voice was cold and threatening, distrust and a harsher emotion gleaming in her crow's feet eyes. “Get out of there now Kagome, you have to pick up Souta.” 

Kagome half reached to touch her grandfather’s hands but stopped under her mother’s gaze and left him there. Even when she entered the court yard she could hear her mother’s harsh words. 

“Keep acting like this and I will put you in the ‘ward no matter my dead husband’s wishes.” 


	2. Taking The Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagome and Grandfather prepare for the crossing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Here is the link to a cover I made for this fanfic: 
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/wolflover1213/art/SessKag-The-King-is-Alive-863985105

_Kagome looked out at an achingly familiar landscape with its twisted rock walls. There was a disparity inside herself, her hands and feet moving without her consent. These long white hands with calluses sliced a red line down the palm, Kagome herself cringing from the sensation, and from them came wiggling vines with red thorns. They dripped and slithered against the rock ground, the vision changing like a static VHS to a white figure entrapped in the thorny vines depth. Deep golden eyes glared into her soul, a normally attractive mouth bloody in a silenced scream._

She jolted awake and moved the curtain by her bed without turning the lamp light on, sweat beading down her forehead and her armpits, the comforter sticking to her. Outside the moon was waxing and fat snowflakes dusting the shrine’s courtyard, and she pressed her hand against the cold glass, her nerves settling as her breath fogged up the pane around her.

The snow was serene and a constantly lazy downfall as she sat until the sweat dried up. In the morning she covered her dark under eye circles with a concealer to hide from her mother’s watchful eyes. It was hard to wiggle away to grandfather’s study with all her morning responsibilities and commuting to campus, yet her mind was far away with each task. What was she going to do? How in the world could she open the veil between the human and fae realm? It all seemed too daunting and if it wasn’t for the curse she wouldn’t look for those answers either, but then that was how her ancestors got her in this mess.

Kagome cursed at the steering wheel as she parked with a bubbling rage. “Why couldn’t you have fucking done it you lazy, ignorant—” She smacked the steering wheel harder with the incomplete insult until her palms stung. Before she could unfurl into a full-blown rage her alarm blared, reminding her that class would start soon. Her fury dissolved as quickly as it emerged and turned it off with slumped shoulders; what else could she do? She needed to find some type of answer to amend the curse.

Between her classes she scoured the library’s language section, pulling hordes of books on different dialects like Coptic, Sumerian and even Latin to compare to the text sample of the bound journal. She had gone the easy route in the beginning by using google to analyze it but got that annoying ‘cannot be found’ error, which left her to the old-fashioned search. Why couldn’t her ancestors have left a word key or something?

The only time she got to spend time with grandfather in the study was after her latest class before she had to pick Souta up from his soccer practice, mom was still at her office job.

“I’ve haven’t found anything that matches the text from the library.” Kagome admitted, grandfather simply continued to steep his tea with pursed lips. Silence settled between the two as grandfather removed the tea bag, his old brown eyes far away in thought. Kagome fought the urge to jiggle her leg or grab him from his labels and shake him until he could procure an answer, but she didn’t do either. The idea of her grandfather’s head lulling to the side left a sick feeling in her even if she was frustrated.

“There has to be something in here.” Grandfather finally spoke and piled journals and scrolls in front of her in neat piles.

“These are diaries. . .” Kagome murmured and flipped through the top journal with its yellowed pages, the right-hand corners dated in nineteen thirty-five. “Ichika Higurashi.” A black and white photo slipped out through the pages to show a smiling young woman that had grandfather’s nose.

“She was my dad’s sister; she died a few months before I was born.” Grandpa spoke softly, almost too low for Kagome to hear. “He would tell stories about how she made the best kimonos in their hometown.”

“Grandpa. . . how many do you know of?” Kagome paused, curious but also uncertain if she should ask. His wrinkled eyes brightened a bit and took the black and white photo from her, a vulnerability she couldn’t normally see.

“Only my sister and daughter, our other ancestors were passed down to me by Yua. She was so bright—she wanted to be a seamstress like Ichika, so she spent days and days on making a red and white kimono with sakura blossoms… she wore it the day she died.” A few lone tears dripped down his face as he spoke.

Kagome’s chest twisted and she took his frail hands, his bones poking out of his paper skin. When did he get so old? She remembered him clearly with strong hands and a loud voice that went on about Japanese legends, or how he’d whip up a talisman to put on the doors. His hand slowly warmed up under hers.

“Sara on the other hand, she had so much spunk.” His shoulders trembled a little bit, but he smiled at Kagome. “She was born before your dad, so me and your grandma were worried about everything. She would fall asleep on my chest, her small cheeks so plump and squishy. Yours were that way too but you’d drool on me.” He patted Kagome’s hand; his brown eyes brighter than she’d seen them in years.

A door slammed in the distance making Kagome jump, casting a nervous glance at the shoji doors.

“Sorry grandpa,” Kagome squeezed his hand gently, careful about his bird-like bones. “I’m going to hide some of these in my room, so mom doesn’t see them.” He watched her sadly as she hid the journals in her backpack and left him there alone.

“Kagome! Why haven’t you left to pick up your brother yet? He gets out in ten minutes.” Mom chastised her as Kagome attempted to tiptoe up the stairs, her mother wringing her purse strap.

“I’m sorry I lost track of time.” Kagome shifted her backpack, all too aware of the fragile texts in it.

“You’ve been talking to your grandfather, haven’t you? He’s been filling your head with so much—”

“—No! I’ve uh,” Kagome’s mind whirled frantically with possibilities. “Got distracted by Hojo. I think I’m going to go on a date with him.” Internally she smacked herself to the heavens as mom narrowed her eyes.

“Finally! That boy has been trying to get your attention for months now. It’s about time that you started to date seriously too, you know—” Mom’s tone took a one-eighty, energetically waving her hand around. 

“Sorry mom, I’ve got to pick up Souta!” Kagome fled from her mother’s lecture with a red face.

* * *

Kagome turned on her lamplight after another night terror, the scene of the King’s ‘death’ becoming clearer each time. She could almost hear the meaty sound of swords piercing past armor and into flesh, no wonder her ancestors were driven to madness. Kagome was tempted to read her great-great aunt’s diary but she was compelled by a different journal that was bound with fraying twine.

The pages were tattered at the edges and threatened to tear as Kagome opened it. She bit her lip before once again carefully peeling the page away from the cover, the ink washed out with time that she was tempted to squint. The name was half smeared away with a queasy stain that she really hoped was just rust colored ink, the date was nowhere to find.

_Dear future sister,_

_If you’re reading this that means I’ve succumbed to the blood curse or have crossed through the veil. I do not trust myself to make the journey because the curse is taking its toll on my body, so I will inscribe my knowledge as a precaution._

_After months deciphering the original texts from our ancestor, Kikyo, I have learned much of why_ _we are cursed so. Soon you too will begin the visions of her actions, the way she enticed and sliced the Demon King’s core out of him. I look at his core from time to time, the darkness in it swirls dangerously, and from it I can understand her terror and resolve. I do not blame her, even if the curse takes my body. She was right._

_The veil will thin when December’s moon is at its fullest and with the power I’ve inherited from Kikyo, with the aid from my brother and the jewel will travel through the well. The portal thrums in my ears with her power as the moon swells. Once on the other side I will feed the jewel back to the Demon King and then kill him once for all, ending the curse for all of us._

Kagome read the letter dumbfounded, what were the chances that a previous ancestor would leave such clear instructions?! She snatched the diary up and crept out of her room, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards until she reached her grandfather’s room. With the lightest knock his door opened and she was beaconed inside. 

They talked in hush whispers, according to the letter they only had three weeks until it would open.

“Why does the female always inherit our ancestor’s, Kikyo’s, power?” Kagame sat crisscrossed on his futon, the small lamplight harsh against his greying hair.

“I assume it’s because you’re closer to fae than the man.” Grandpa theorized while rereading the letter. “Kagome. . . we don’t have much time now. I don’t know if you’re able to cross back.”

“But Kikyo crossed.”

“She was a pureblood.” Grandpa tapped the diary softly. “So we need to prepare even if you can make it back. It’s dangerous on that side with creatures and monsters, and from my studies their time doesn’t move like ours either. They probably still use rudimentary items like swords and armor.”

“We have the saber sword thing. I can learn to use that, can’t I?”

“The Tenseiga… Kikyo brought it through the veil, it may even have powers in it. I know a sword instructor that we can go to, but you won’t have time with your classes.” Grandpa put the book down, his conflicted feelings clear on his face.

“College doesn’t matter if I’m going to die from the curse. Grandpa,” Kagome straightened her shoulders. “Please teach me about the monsters beyond the veil so I can be prepared. I will take the sword classes and gather supplies to take with me and I promise you, I will come home.”

* * *

The next morning Kagome harassed the administration office.

“Are you sure you want to withdraw? You’re almost done with the semester; you should stick this out.” The office lady attempted to persuade Kagome in her perfectly pressed pencil skirt.

“I’m withdrawing.” Kagome firmly stated. “And since I didn’t sign the consent form you are not allowed to notify my family about this decision either.”

“Kagome, your professors have only said positive things about your course work. I know it’s hard since you’re a commuter but. . .” The lady drifted off when Kagome stood up.

“Goodbye Mrs. Sato.” Kagome left the office lady and walked through her college campus for what could be the last time. She took in the lazy rush of students that went past her, the way the classrooms were filled, the posters that lined the wall. She spent years craving a spot in the university, pouring over exams and study guides with an insatiable ambition so that she could have a better life than her family. Was this the last time she’d be here?

“Kagome!” A chipper voice called out her name and the man came jogging over to her with a million-dollar smile. “I didn’t know you were on campus at this time. Do you want to get some coffee with me?” Hojo looked at her with eager eyes, almost jumping in place with her response. It wasn’t really a big stretch to lie to her mother about him, he seemed to always be there wanting her attention, her smile or laugh.

“Sure. . .” Kagome smiled, hell if this was her last month potentially living in her world she might as well have fun. Shock waved over his features before the excitement came back full force and he led her away, talking a thousand words a minute about the lecture.

And wouldn’t stop talking.

Kagome chewed on her straw as he took a moment to breathe, the table they sat at full of Hojo’s diagrams of the human body. The heart, lungs and even the urinary system. Covertly Kagome opened her text messages with the trainer grandfather wanted her to go to, a much more interesting topic in her opinion.

[Instructor]: **The four classes a week is $160. The five times a week is $200.**

Kagome chewed her straw a bit more, her thumbs hovering over the text message before replying.

[Kagome]: **You’ve known my grandfather a long time, is there any way you can give me a discount on the $200?** **I’m only learning for a month so it’d be $600. . . but money is tight.**

[Instructor]: **I can only go down to $500, even for Dazien. Come by my class with the payment when you’re ready.**

“Kagome, are you listening?” Hojo waved his hand over Kagome’s eyes, breaking her frustrated gaze from the text.

“I’m sorry you were saying something about the aorta?” Kagome put her phone down and smiled politely at him.

Hojo pressed his lips together for a moment. “F-from the aorta to the apex, I want to date you with my whole heart.” His ears turned a bit pink and he didn’t meet her eyes. Kagome fought hard from laughing and she covered her mouth-- maybe her mom was right, he really did like her.

“Hojo, that was a very sweet,” _cheesy, nerdy_ “line but I don’t have the capacity to date you right now.” He still didn’t look at her but at the heart diagram on the table. His expression turned downwards before a visible shift took over.

“I understand Kagome. Thank you for listening to me.” Back was the eager energy and smile, though now it made Kagome’s chest uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I have to go now. Thank you for getting coffee with me. Bye!” Kagome gathered her purse quickly, intent on fleeing from his unwanted face and attention.

Once she was a block away from the café she pulled her phone back out, snuggling deeper into her winter coat as the freezing wind swept by. 500 dollars was still a lot and that didn’t even count what supplies she’d need— a sustainable water bottle, clothing that would fit in that world, shoes, perishables, a first aid kit. The list could go on if she knew what else she needed. She’d have to pull out the money she had in her savings and even her piggy bank back home. . . which would barely cover it. She chewed the straw she still had before straightening her shoulders once again, she had to do it.

She almost cried watching the bills come out of her bank account, the envelope a burning weight in her purse. Grandfather and her gathered around the kitchen counter, both mom and Souta still occupied, which left them enough time to count everything.

“This is only 400 even after my savings.” Kagome stared at the hard-earned bills on the marbled counter. “Are the classes really worth this?”

“Yes.” Grandpa disappeared through the kitchen doorway and came back carrying a shoe box. “This should cover the rest of the classes. We still have some garments that have been preserved, so I’ll alter them for you…”

“Grandpa,” Kagome blinked at her grandfather’s whole life savings, a lot for the situation but meager in terms of a life’s accumulation. “You need this money for your doctor’s bills and checkups, I can’t take this.”

“Kagome. This money means nothing to me, it would be better for you to use it.” He curled a few bills into her hands and then held hers. His eyes were sincere and caring, the eyes she had grown up questioning because of the curse. Slowly she nodded her head and gave in.

* * *

Time was an undesirable riptide, the days ending in a blink of an eye. Kagome had to sneak around and lie about her classes, hide how she spent time with grandfather, and she began taking sword classes-- which were uncomfortable, sore and scary. Grandpa was always working whether it was measuring and altering the miko garbs or packing first aid supplies into the designated backpack she was taking.

Those moments were kind, he’d talk about his childhood with Yua or watching Sara grow up, his fingers carefully sewing the fabric with shaky hands. He’d talk about Kagome’s childhood or her father’s first running marathon, and Kagome found her heart melting and twisting. Why couldn’t her mother look past the mythology and see him? He was so much more than the supposed madness she quickly found out and he made her feel like she was enough. She beat herself up with her lack of progress in the sword class, ranting and practicing the forms with the Tenseiga under his watchful eye, and he encouraged her and made her tea afterwards. It wasn’t anything like her mom’s constant expectations about grades, studying and social life. No, her grandfather made her feel loved unconditionally.

Her nightmares also increased with the time, dark and ominous as she watched the dog-eared demon spear his brother over and over again with different blades. The wet sounds of flesh and bone giving way resounded in the day like a melody stuck in her head, and then the abrupt scream of pain from the demon King as one blade went through his heart. The circles under her eyes became darker and she didn’t want to eat anything red even when her mom lectured her.

The sun was buried under thick clouds on December twenty-ninth, the full moon occurring on that night. Grandpa and Kagome checked the fit of the miko red hakama and white kosode with its wide sleeves, and he even inauspiciously plaited her hair with the traditional red and white ribbons.

“. . . We have wide bandages, thin bandages, clips and ointment.” Kagome snapped the first aid closed, resting it on top of her bag. The Tenseiga had been carefully polished the night before and laid on the low table, scabbard and all, while grandpa crafted a chain for the shikon jewel to hang around her neck safely. It was a deep purple with swirling fog inside like the diary said, but it was warm against her collarbones and gave her a sense of comfort. 

“That’s everything you should need. Did you pack the blank journal like I wanted?” Grandpa packed the first aid kit into the bag between her rations of foodstuff.

“Yes, I packed it. I’ll write about everything I see from monsters to fauna so that you can read it, I promise. You have the letter for mom printed out already, right?”

“It’s still in the printer.”

“I’ll get it, you want some tea as well?” Grandpa nodded slowly and so Kagome traveled out into the courtyard still in her miko clothes right into her mother’s crossed arms.

“I knew it! You have been filling her head with spiritual nonsense this whole time, no wonder she’s been looking so sickly. But for you to convince her to leave us for a temple?!” Mother screamed and waved the goodbye letter in her hands, the paper crumbling underneath her pressure.

“Mom, I didn’t think you were home.” Kagome blocked the entrance to the study, her stomach curdling at the scathing look her mother gave her. Mom curled her lip and shoved Kagome into the shoji doors which ripped a bit and stormed into grandpa’s study.

“You’re getting admitted today, I don’t care what Kagome has to say. You’re crazy!” Mom picked up the heavy pack and threw it out into the courtyard, the first aid kit and pack of corn skidding out of it.

“Mom, stop! Leave him alone.” Kagome screamed back as her mother grabbed grandfather’s arm tightly, Kagome latching onto her. “Let him go!” 

Mom was only able to move a few paces while pulling grandfather and Kagome so she let go. With the momentum she tripped over Kagome’s foot and fell out the doorway onto the concrete.

“You ignorant child!” Mom scowled and slowly got up from the fall while Kagome held onto grandpa, heart a frantic thump in her ears. Without another word her mother picked herself up and ran towards the house, presumably where she left her cellphone.

“Kagome, pick up your things, we need to open the veil before she calls someone.”

“Grandpa, she’s going to get you locked in a ward, how can I think about the stupid veil—”

“Kagome,” his weak voice strengthened and strapped the blade to her hip. “Move, now.”

Bided by her grandfather she shoved the first aid kit and package of corn back into her bag, jogging to follow her grandfather to the well house.

The well house was cold and dark, a rippling energy cascading from inside the well itself. It made her skin crawl like various spider legs or centipedes, but before she could be any more creeped out grandpa shoved her to the well’s lip. Sutras were placed everywhere by him hours before and crinkled underneath her as she sat on the wooden lip.

“Grandpa, I don’t- I’m scared this won’t work.” Grandpa took her shaking hand and squeezed it.

“I put extra sutras in your pack, and you have projection spells sewn into your clothes. You’ll be fine.” Kagome nodded slowly and smiled with trembling lips, her mind churning with the different possibilities: she’d hit the bottom of the well and break her legs or neck, her grandfather was going to be carted away, the spell could backfire and kill them both.

“Focus Kagome. Feel the energy and jump.” He commanded and then sat against the well, his hands together and began chanting.

She could feel the energy like a living thing, the pulses in tune with her breath. The jewel around her neck heated up against her collar bones and she began to see traces of purple and pink energies within the well’s depths. The logical part of her brain screamed at her as she leaned forward, her whole body shaking, and the sound of her mother’s voice grew louder. She closed her eyes and pushed off into the unknown, the air screaming around her as the energy enveloped her.

She felt suspended in time after the first few seconds of being engulfed, the air around her stilled against her limbs. All around her was the heart thumb, lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub, of energy and she intuitively knew it was grandfather’s keeping it open, then without warning the heartbeat stopped and the darkness faded into a bright flash of light.

Kagome gasped at the sudden cold, water spewing into her mouth and she wreathed in the current.

* * *

On the other side of the well Dazien Higurashi slumped forward, his wrinkled face slack in death. His thin lips were a deep blue and his cheeks sunk into his skull, his body becoming a shriveled shell. Hina, Kagome’s mother, screamed and grasped at his dead body, his thin bones breaking underneath her, and then ran to the empty well. Her face was ashen, her hazel brown eyes panicked even when red and white lights splashed against the concrete ground.

Dazien was strapped to a stretcher, his dead body bumping down the one hundred and fifty stairs to the ambulance truck. Hina continued to cry and her shoulders shook as the police officers questioned her, and when Souta came home she stared off into space like an empty shell.


	3. This New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagome struggles into the unknown while grieving for her grandfather/

This New World.

Kagome wreathed against the cold undercurrent, an uncalculated surprise that she thrashed in. The unyielding tightness in her chest bespoke of a deeper panic and need, shoving the pain of feeling her grandfather’s death that hovered in her heart. The jewel thrummed against her collarbone, the echoing lub-dub off kilter from her own and casted a faint light up through the well’s mixed stone walls. With the newfound light she righted herself and pushed upward through the water, the deep weight of her pack and clothes counteracting her efforts, her lungs begging her for air as she crested towards the lip of the well.

Sunlight casted through the water, blurred skylines and clouds, and her limbs thrashed in panic when she passed the lip of the well and a forceful current swept her body like a paper bag. Her heartbeat was too loud in her ears, throbbing in her chest like it was going to burst out, her head threatening with a dizziness that bespoke unconsciousness. Then like a flash of a fish tail her head slipped above the water line, gulping air that was as painful as breathing in glass, before she was sucked back under by the current. She’d be a fool to fight the current so she went with it, her lungs promising to give up before she slipped into an easier force she could swim against.

She took gulping breaths of air when she made it to the surface, her limbs lead as she forced them to keep moving towards a strip of the riverbank. There was snow everywhere— on the ground, weighing down limbs of trees—and ice crusted the ground where Kagome slumped against. Her teeth chattered as the cold seeped into her wet kosode, her fingers shaking and turning a terrifying shade of blue. The red hakama stuck to her legs as she willed them to work, her toes numb in her shoes while she wobbled into the almost knee-high snow.

Every violent chatter of her teeth sent panic through her veins. She needed to find shelter, somehow create a fire, and stop herself from losing fingers or toes. But she didn’t recognize anything, the trees tall and packed together once she passed the bank, all the matches she brought with her were probably soaked through with the notebook and other supplies she had, which at that moment provided more weight than her body could properly carry. She stumbled into a tree and leaned against it, the bark roughly sending blazing pain through her, her stomach clenching and shivering through the wet clothes.

Kagome gritted her teeth and pushed off of the tree and made further into the forest, the sunlight too bright as it came through the pine needles and reflected off of the icy snow. Maybe this was why she didn’t see the sunken impress after a poking root or maybe she was just too tired to notice, but either way she tumbled into the hidden hole. She tumbled for a short period of time, each impact dull pain as earth and roots completely devoured her, and she fell onto her back and heard something crunch in her pack. Through her shivers she looked up the distance where the opening was which, unfortunately or fortunately, would require a bit of climbing, the jewel a continued warm thrum where it had landed against her throat.

A rough chatter of her teeth propelled her up and into action, her cold and slow limbs breaking what roots she could around her. They were tough and she resorted to digging and cutting them with a small knife her grandfather packed until she had an almost decent pile assembled. There were gouges here and there in the packed earthen burrow, but she quickly stopped thinking about what could have caused it. She peeled back the flap of her backpack and took out the soggy notebook, her chest painful at the memory of their conversation and promise—she’d promised to take notes, to talk about everything from plants to demons or food that she’d find—and she could never uphold it. Next came the first aid kit, the red plastic cross split down the middle from her impact, until she got out the small bag of matches. . . which her grandfather had the foresight to pack in a Ziplock bag. A few tears slipped down her frozen cheeks in a painful line, her fingers stiff as she wiped them away. Her nails had blue crescents from the cold, deep and dark like a bruise from limited circulation.

It took a few tries to create the fire, the used matches tucked under the wood to be useful, the flame flickering and threatening to disperse. After a few moments it caught and produced a small but consistent flame that lit the small burrow she found herself sheltering in. With great reluctance she peeled layers of her wet clothing off and wrapped them from the jutting roots that she couldn’t cut through, spread out what she could of the supplies to dry, and almost cried again when she found some hand warmers. The loud cracks of their activation echoed against the packed earth, their warmth welcome and desperately needed as she continued to huddle by the tiny fire, a gust of wind flying above the entrance and bringing a few sprinklings of snow.

As her body ever so slowly warmed up with the combined heat, her mind replayed the feeling of the portal’s magic stopping, the way his heartbeat was there and gone the next moment. Unrelenting tears flooded her, wracking her shoulders and chest until she was gasping from the pain and loss. Why? Why did he have to die? She knew that’s what happened deep in her bones, that he used the last of his magic and spirit to uphold the crossing for her-- why did her mother have to find them at that moment? They were supposed to cross at night when the moon was at its height, why did her mother have to do that? She was always so mean towards him, Kagome used to be mean towards him, turning their backs from his kind eyes and tales. Why hadn’t she listened? Spent more time with him? She cried until she could hardly breathe, her sobs wretched and tormented as the daylight passed into night, the tiny flame consuming through the roots.

She cried until she didn’t have any more energy, the cursed jewel a flickering second heartbeat and heat against her that forced her mind to clear and keep the fire alive. It thrummed and hummed even as she slipped into a dark and tormented sleep, her mind replaying her grandfather’s gentle moments.

Kagome awoke with the warm memory of her grandfather’s crinkling eyes as he steeped his favorite green tea, the soft steam wafting and curling. It took her a few moments to gather her wits around her, peering at the packed earth that illuminated from the feeble sunlight. The chill radiated around her, but it was more bearable than the night before. She slipped into the cold but thankfully now dry hakama and kosode, and even put on a double pair of socks. The winter haori was dry, again a thankful foresight of her grandfather, and she slipped that over her white kosode for the extra warmth it provided, huddled in it like a puffed penguin, but her red and white ribbons tangled around her in her mused braids. She was tempted to leave them as a mess, one of the last handiworks of her grandfather’s love, but eventually fixed them so she could focus on her next step.

She surveyed the ascending roots, her pack organized and a comfortable weight against her shoulder blades. Her legs quivered as she tested footholds, stretching her arms and toes to reach the biggest root, which was just out of her reach, the drop below uncomfortable enough to make her hold tight and press against the earth. She rocked and tip toed precariously but the ledged and looping root mocked her with its grazing distance, causing her to glare at it. She peered back over her shoulder, her pack half obscuring the distance and then looked at the entrance of the pit—it was so close, only a few more feet and she’d be free _._ She gathered the strength in her legs, the bunching calves and thighs, making a split-second decision before she could think of the fall, and jumped.

She held onto the looped root for dear life, the weight of her supplies pulling her down, her feet desperately clawing into the dirt to pull herself up, up and over the root which was just big enough for her feet to rest on. Her head popped up over the entrance to see the thick snow with its tops encased in ice, the sunlight dazzling at the sight. She reached out and grabbed onto the thickest and sturdiest buttress of the closest pine tree and hauled herself over the lip, her stomach sliding against the packed snow like a winter seal.

She knelt in the snow for a moment, taking in the brisk air into her lungs, the way her muscles still quivered and sore from the previous day’s desperate actions in surviving the water’s currents. She lifted her face towards the sun, soaking in how it cascaded leathery red against her closed eyelids, savoring the fact that she was alive even if the loss ached in her chest. She tapped her thighs twice, muffled _pat pat_ , and set off westward simply to follow the sunlight. Grandfather and her debated deep in the night a few times before she crossed but still didn’t find an answer or scrap of knowledge of where she was even supposed to travel, but the sunlight beckoned her across the iced landscape, her footfalls crunching against its thin surface. Peaceful drips of water down icicles. Pinecones peeking through the snowy blanket.

She traveled up the base of the hill until the short winter day cropped by the long nights. In her traveling she picked up twigs and limbs that she could in preparation of the winter’s dangerous cold, laying them to the side while she created snow walls around her—an ode to the igloos she saw on tv—just enough to go past her head while she sat. It took three more matches than yesterday to start the stubborn firewood, flickering shadows against the pressed white snow. But it was warmer than before.

She nudged her now-cold hand warmers as close to the fire as she dared, praying that they would reactivate if she waited long enough. There were only a few other sets of clothing that she packed but the winter’s sweeping wind instilled a shiver in her, so she wormed herself into them as well. Padded in clothing like a child before their first winter by a new anxious parent, she curled close to the fire and opened that bag of corn to eat. The kernels were cold, but the bright bursts of flavor were a relief to her aching stomach with its grumblings—what was she going to do when her rations ran out? She didn’t dare open the crackers yet, what if she couldn’t find a village? What was their currency? Did they, the citizens, barter or use coins like those medieval drama pieces? The jewel, the Demon King’s core, gave a fluttery pulse against her throat, so she untangled it from her many layers.

The core was so small in the palm of her hands, the darkness swirling in the middle while the edges curled purple and gold, as if whispering _I’m here, I'm alive, I'm awake._ It warmed her hands and pulsed in time with her own heartbeat, a steady comfort as she felt its dim power in the depths of her stomach. What was the Demon King like? She thought of her dreams, of how his beautiful face twisted in pain and betrayal, and slowly conjured up a different image of him like the tales her grandfather told. His broad shoulders straight and proud down a strong spine atop of a horse. His chiseled jaw would be high with pride, his muscled thighs conforming against the equally majestic steed, his long clean silver hair swaying in the wind while dazzling sunlight gleamed off red and gold armor, like his eyes highlighted with his markings. His raven peaked bangs twisting with the breeze against the deep blue crescent in the middle of his forehead— a true picture of a legendary king.

She smiled at the image and pressed the jewel close to her heart, whispering _I’m here, I’m coming for you._ In her mind he was every inch of pride and honor, a King waiting to be blessed and awoke by her like a gender bent Sleeping Beauty. She thought nothing of what that ancestor wrote in her journal, for how could they hate a King as bright as he? No, her first ancestor made a mistake and she’d show the King _her_ pure heart and he would listen and lift the curse. She lulled to sleep with that hope and idealistic thrum, the jewel held close preciously against her chest like one would hold a lover.

_Kagome’s hands-- her hands-- were pumping through the air as the ground swept by her powerful and supernatural legs, forcing them behind her and over obstructions in the path. Terror laced her mouth with ragged pants, she could feel their deadly pursuit behind her like hellhounds, baying at her escape. The stolen Tenseiga clenched in one fist, the dangerous core that she ripped out of him still bloody in the other fist and made a mad dash towards the well. This well was in much better condition with freshly varnished wood over a leyline of immense power, and she thudded into it full force._

_They were coming, they were coming, he was coming._

_“Kikyo,” A deep voice the owner of them knew, their shared bodies shuttering at the sound. Kagome could not tell when her thoughts and this woman began or ended, terror enriched in every tremble of her legs. “It’s very naughty of you to do this to me. If you give Tenseiga and my brother’s core back to me, we can go home peacefully.”_

_He was going to slaughter her, rip her limb from limb and tear her heart out of her chest. She called the deep power of the leyline, it’s powerful voice like a water’s deadly riptide answered. One power for another power, it called. And so, she closed her eyes and fell into the well, her immortal soul sucking out of her as the leyline trembled the well’s walls, water rushing down as the portal opened and swept her away._

Kagome screamed into wakefulness from the violent sense of power and fear, blinking at the unfamiliar darkness she was in. It took her many heartbeats to detangle her consciousness from the woman’s—Kikyo’s—lingering thoughts and unrelenting feeling of a terrible taking, splicing away senses and power Kagome had no notion of. She washed the terror out by swishing freezing snow in her mouth, the melting water going through her clenched teeth and spewed beside the dead fire.

It didn’t take long for dawn to cast over the land, the sides of her half-walled shelter glowing with yellows and oranges while she filled her caving stomach with dry crackers. She took a moment to admire it and then scrambled through her supplies for the warped notebook, scribbling quickly about how beautiful it was— as if her grandfather could read about it one day. Tears pricked at her as she dotted her sentence, all the words and loss and guilt pouring through the pen until she had nothing left to write. The ink was messy as she closed it, burying the feelings deep inside and dismantled her shelter. One thing the dream told her was that she wasn’t safe, the dog-eared demon’s voice making her work faster— she was in a foreign land against demons and creatures she didn’t know.

Kagome jumped at every sound whether it was the gusting wind that scattered the snow underneath her or the chirping of winter birds with their shrill ka-cawing. She kept on the gradual incline of the hill hoping it would lead her to a higher vantage point to survey where she was, how close she was to anything else in these terrifying lands.

Imperceptibly there was a feather light thump in her chest behind her heart, only calling to her attention when it gave an achy thud in time with the jewel against her throat. She placed her hand over the spot, feeling this barely there phantom heart in tandem with her own—it was a weird and freaky sensation that made her hands shake a moment. She shook her head as if that would dislodge the second heart and continued creeping up the inclined hill until the trees cleared away in a drop. Just like she hoped it would.

On the other side of the precipice there was a town of shacks and huts with slanted roofs, the people milling around almost too small for her to see from that distance. She leaned closer to the edge, squinting to make out the red and grey clothing some villagers wore, a snapping limb startling from her vantage point. She gripped the hilt of Tenseiga, the leather strapping of it cold from the elements.

They appeared almost silently after the snap, two large lumbering figures with twisted grins and pointed ears. The human part of her screamed for her to run, that these were predators, a deep aching fear that kept humanity alive for centuries. She slid the slim and elegant blade from its scabbard with a _shink_ and settled into a defense stance like her trainer taught her those weeks preparing for this.

“Now little lady,” the one on the right twitched, those inhuman eyes dragging across how her hands shook. “We just want that golden core around your neck, so put the sword away.” It grinned with a mouth packed with too many teeth.

“You can’t have it.” Kagome lifted the swords a little higher, trying to force her voice to be strong and intimidating. Instead, it came out shrill like a crying bird. The duo inched closer a moment, but she couldn’t move back any further unless she wanted to risk tumbling down the mountain side—she cursed her own stupidity for the weakness.

“That’s not very nice of you.” The second demon, the one with black hair, murmured before things became a whirlwind of motion. Snow scattered from swift footfalls and Kagome’s blade clanked against razor sharp claws that extended further than should be possible. His strength wasn’t like anything she ever experienced, all of her instructors training going out the window when her arms buckled under those claws.

Kagome leapt forward underneath those outstretched claws, her frantic heartbeat blocking out whatever the demon man drawled, the space between them closing in too fast. Another pair of clawed hands appeared and the steady weight of the Tenseiga was snatched out of her grip.

She tried to scramble away from the other’s grip, her shoulder falling with a wet crunch through the dual layers of the two haori and kosode, her blood scolding hot against the winter air. Her scream was short lived, the lilting pain ending with a grunt as she slammed the hidden knife through the closest foreign body part. A second scream trembled in the air, the second demon falling beside her as the other shifted to the opposite side of the clearing.

The demon thudded into the snow, red blood gushing from the savage blow. Her stomach curled, bulking against the crackers in them, but the terror and utter need to survive propelled her forward to grasp the hilt that was buried deep within the demon’s inner thigh. She pushed down with all her might, dragging the knife through flesh and fat, opening the deep femoral artery with desperation and savage sawing back and forth. The demon’s eerie eyes slipped to the back of its head with only the whites showing, the blood scolding hot as at last she removed the blade with a sickening release. The blood melted and mixed in the snow around her, pooling around her red hakama, the edges staining a darker scarlet as her wounded shoulder protested.

Kagome whirled towards the other man, the dying demon at her feet no longer a worry for her. Bile and terror clogged deep within her throat like a bobbing apple as she angled the small blade between them, the blood cooling against the winter wind.

“Your heart is going to be delicious—I will savor each bite before I eat the golden core.” The demon smiled, unfazed by the brutal death of his comrade. 

Before Kagome could utter a comeback, the demon was before her again, quick as those elongated claws slid into her wounded shoulder, her back completely pressed against the demon. Her grip was strong on the small knife but not strong enough as it careened out of her grasp by force. Those deadly claws cusped around her delicate throat, her panic thrumming against his palm as they faced the open mountain ridge, her stomach quivering with fear.

Her hands were wrested in one hand of the demon, his claws piercing into her wrists where pin drops of blood bloomed. So slowly, those claws around her throat curled inward and the pressure tapered off her gulping breath. “I am so hungry.” The demon complained in her ear, as she could hear that starving pang in his voice as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, while her vision began to become hazy with the pine and larch trees heavy with needles and cones.

She struggled weakly, her strength ebbed away from the fighting, while panic pulsed in the point where the jewel laid against her flesh. The demon’s breath was warm and moist against her cheek one moment and then a wet gurgle sounded that sprayed across her face. The demon’s body lurched against her, a sharp poke against her spine, but the pressure was gone.

Kagome stumbled out of the demon’s grip and turned a few feet away with wide eyes, her chest heaving with great sobbing gasps. A pawed hand was sticking out of the demon’s chest, blood and bone and tendons that released with a wet sound that compelled her meager food to rise against her tongue.

The demon slid down like a marionette with its strings cut, the pawed demon overpowering the ones she fought with build alone. Red hair, green eyes and nine tails swished. A kitsune like the ones her grandfather told tales about.

“Mistress,” The kitsune’s voice trembled and cooed like one would say a holy name in a temple, those green eyes bright and intense as he reached the paw still bloodied towards her. Kagome’s voice unlocked with a tremendous scream of terror, her feet working before her mind could form a coherent thought.

Tenseiga laid in the snow close to her and she snagged it from its snowy mount in passing, leaving the dagger behind as she slid down the mountain side. Her throat burned, her shoulder ached and there was so much blood, but none of that mattered as the kitsune bound after her in powerful leaps.

The two figures disappeared down the mountain, another darker man clothed in armor with a white crest of moonflowers walked towards his dead companions. He picked up the forgone blade and held it towards his face, his lungs breathing in all the scent could convey—fear, panic, power and... lotus blossoms, a scent that was drilled into training and tracking. He melded into shadows and followed down the ascending tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! Is that a lovely grown-up character we just met? Yes, yes it is. I hoped you enjoy and please give me your feedback; it makes me very happy.


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